Flicks
by ReadingWhiz89
Summary: [Mangaverse] He closed his eyes, a putrid, unraveling part of him falling away, never to return. [Written for 2006 Knives' Day competition]


Disclaimer: Millions Knives and Trigun Maximum are the property of the almighty Yasuhiro Nightow.

A/N: Well, it's been a while since I posted anything. Being on summer break has made me lazy. Apologies, my friends!

Anyway, this fic, inspired by the song "Flicks" by Frou Frou (who is awesome, by the way), is for the 2006 Knives' Day competition. It tales place at the very end of Trigun Maximum Volume 8 so there are spoilers up to that point, as well as lines taken directly from the manga.

And without further ado, on to the story!

* * *

"…_a flicker of the future could've saved the cindered sister…"_ - Frou Frou ("Flicks")

_**Flicks**_

_This color…stench…touch…sink deep…into the depths of my psyche…I will do this again and again until you disappear._

Shattered glass fragments lay scattered about the Plant facility, the remnants of now-empty bulbs crackling as electricity surged erratically along the power lines. The sweet, pungent odor of decay permeated what was left of the room, splinters of light penetrating the gloom. He breathed it in, ignoring the protests from Crimsonnail as he cradled the ruined body of his sister close, her shriveled, blackened form melding with his.

There was pain, but he did not shy away, letting it sear him. Purge him. How ironic that it was the rotten corpses of his brethren that would accomplish this. He raised his head, seeing the look on the transvestite's face. Rising slowly, his boots squelched slightly as he ascended from the bulb, its insides streaked with blood.

His cloak rustling gently, Knives landed gracefully on the platform of the Ark, the shifting bodies of thousands of Plant Angels beneath his feet, harmonizing voices resonating within his mind. He brushed past Elendira, overlooking the desecrated, sister city of Carcasses. Crumbling buildings, debris, and the dead and dying lay strewn about. What was left wouldn't last, not even if help did arrive. The town was in its death throes, and soon the rest of Gunsmoke would follow, the last vestiges of human civilization torn down and annihilated.

"Master Knives."

He didn't turn, his tall figure motionless.

"The Ark is ready for departure." Elendira paused. "What is our next destination?"

Knives said nothing for a moment, the sensation of power coursing through him, of his strength joining with that of his sisters, still singing in his blood. He wanted more, more than he had, but that would have to wait.

"East December," he said.

"I will enter the necessary coordinates into the system immediately."

"No."

"…no?"

Knives stared out across the wreckage, his eyes distant. "No. There is something I must do before we proceed."

Elendira didn't speak for a few seconds, but when he finally did, his voice was neutral with a tinge of curiosity. "Where are we going, Master Knives?"

"Return to the helm. I will guide the ship."

"…as you wish."

As the transvestite walked away and descended into the bowels of the Ark, Knives was left alone…except for the whispers. They multiplied each time he gathered more Plants to himself, growing more insistent as their numbers increased. But he was stronger than they and well able to manage their influence.

Feathers brushed against his legs, ruffling in the wind as the Ark began to pull away, leaving the destruction behind. Standing at the edge of his ship's fore, Knives guided the Ark with a steady hand, knowing exactly where he was going. He had intended to make this trip sooner, but circumstances had detained him. And now that Vash had made his escape along with Chapel, Knives believed that closure was needed. He had bid his brother farewell already, but more than that was needed in order to rid himself of the attachment they both shared.

In hindsight, it was clear to him now that he and Vash had parted ways years ago, long before the present. However, Knives had persisted, instructing his brother in the true nature of humanity by using the Gung-Ho Guns. Vash's intractable nature had rendered his efforts meaningless, though, and now Knives saw how truly flawed his brother had become, corrupted irreparably by the humans he had sworn to protect. There would be no further chances for him. Not anymore.

He shifted imperceptibly, his gaze sweeping slowly across the landscape before him as the twin suns burned overhead, a glaring heat that scorched the desert sands as well as the creatures that crawled upon it. Life and death interchanged in such a place, each a single breath away from the other as the hot, dry air shimmered like rippled water. Nothing had changed since the Big Fall, and nothing ever would. The planet's resources were already so scarce and depleted that humans could do little damage. But they would. There was no doubt in Knives' mind that they would. That was why they had to die.

The shadow of a smile flickered across his face, his purpose as certain as it had been the day he had discovered the necessity of the demise of the human race. More than a century had passed since then, but Knives had remained true to his calling, his mission to save his brethren and do away with the plague which was the human race. And yet…

No matter how slight the occurrence, Knives had wavered. He knew why, of course, hence the reason for this small detour. Truly, Knives knew he should have made this trip long before, but he never had. He hadn't thought it necessary to remind himself of his previous life, of the time when he had been deceived by _her_ guile.

The Ark shuddered, his displeasure resonating within and without. Ignoring the agitation he was causing, soft, downy white caressed him, touch inducing feeling devoid of thought. Knives didn't respond, his face chiseled from stone.

_Never again.

* * *

_

I will never forget the day I found them, two little angels, both wailing so loudly that I thought each was try to outdo the other. As quickly as I could, I removed them from the bulb and wrapped them in towels, their small bodies slick with fluid. I drew them close, pressing my shoulder against the warm glass (my hands were full) in gratitude and wonder. I'd like to think she understood, maybe even appreciated the gesture, but I can't really know, can I?

At first I worried, wrestled with myself over what should be done about them. It was my responsibility to tell the others of these two "great scientific discoveries." It was my duty…and I ignored it. If I told, they would end up like her, and I didn't want that. Not again. No matter how much I try to honor her memory by keeping her…housing clean and occasionally leaving a flower there for her…it isn't enough. But if I can just keep them safe, these children I've come to love, the burden of my guilt might lessen. Even if it never goes away completely, perhaps I can find redemption through caring for these boys.

Vash and Knives.

They're so sweet, the both of them. It's so easy to smile around them, something I hadn't thought possible, especially considering the circumstances. And they smile back.

They smile back.

They trust me, too. Vash and Knives both do, although sometimes I think Vash is a little more shy around me than Knives is. Also, of the two, I think Knives is the older twin. I checked their mother Plant's records, and it showed two anomalies with mere minutes between them in her energy output, not just one, so it stands to reason that one was born before the other. Knives seems to have been the first because he always takes the lead and helps his brother along. It's really sweet to watch them interact although I sometimes worry about how I will be able to hide their existence from everyone. And if I'm unable to do that, how will other humans treat them?

The boys have already thought about this, and it makes me feel a little uneasy. I remember once listening in on a conversation between the two. They were together in the cold sleep chambers, overlooking the "sleeping people in pods," as they called them. They didn't know I was there doing maintenance, and I couldn't help but overhear them in the repressive silence.

"Say…Vash…do you think we can become friends…with them?"

"Yeah…I think we'll have to put in a lot of effort, though."

That simple exchange… I can't really describe what I felt then besides the pang in my chest. They didn't know. How could they? Guilt washed over me again, but what could I do?

It makes me happy that Knives is so willing to believe that he and Vash can work together with humans, that they can be friends. Vash is more reserved, but Knives…he wants to believe so much. They're a year old now, just like she was before…

I have to tell them. They deserve to know the truth. Maybe when all of this is over, when we reach the new world, I'll tell them. Someday…

Until that time, though, I have to protect them. I will _never_ make that mistake again.

Never again.

* * *

The Ark moved steadily forward, responding to Knives' directions as if a part of him. And in a way, it _was_, the Plant tendrils interwoven with the hull, as if trying to choke the life from the ship. So many had been absorbed into his being, thousands upon thousands, that his left arm was no longer a normal limb, rather a corded mass connected to his now integral sisters. In freeing them from their confinement, Knives offered another sort, to join him in the war against humans by mingling with his own flesh and blood. Freedom from servitude to humans in exchange for servitude to one of their own kind for a time was the choice Knives made for them. It was a fair trade. 

After several hours of travel, Knives finally found what he had been looking for. Slowing the airship to almost a crawl, Knives approached his destination. He surveyed the blemish upon the seemingly endless desert, a hush and stillness draped over the place like a shroud.

The remains of a SEEDS ship, or rather a _part_ of one, lay sprawled before him, scattered debris long since buried by the shifting sands. Worn away and dull from years of weathering the desert, the ruins whispered of decay, but Knives did not draw away, a stark figure against the vibrant hues of the afternoon sky, the twin suns now setting.

"Master Knives."

Crimsonnail's voice was soft, almost questioning. He had approached Knives quietly, not wishing to disturb his master's contemplations. Knives had known he was there, of course, and the transvestite was aware of that. Master Knives _always_ knew.

"Wait here for me."

Not waiting for a response, Knives leapt off the edge of the Ark, feathers trailing behind him as his cloak flapped. Landing in a crouching position with a soft _thump_, Knives turned his head slightly, seeing Crimsonnail poised where he had been just moments ago, his connection with the Ark still in place, writhing, as if a living thing. Then, he stood, his stride purposeful as he walked towards the wreckage, a dilapidated structure holding itself together somehow despite the forces trying to tear it apart. A futile gesture.

_Pointless.

* * *

_

It's been several days now since "the incident." I've tried calling it something else, something that describes what actually happened. But I can't. Every single time I think about it, each time I remember the bloodied handle of that kitchen knife in my hand, crimson streaks staining my fingers, the floor…so much of it everywhere…I feel sick. She told me that everything's ok now, though. Rem did. But somehow, I'm not so sure.

Things are different now; that goes without saying. And yet, some things _are_ the same. Rem is still as she's always been, kind, caring, understanding, loving, and so many other things that I don't even know how to explain them all with mere words. She seems more solemn, though, as if she's thinking about something distant and far away. It isn't something she does very often, but Rem usually does it when she's alone. I can understand why.

Still, life goes on, even after bad things happen. Rem was honest with us, too. She told us everything. I'm still trying to deal with it, but I think…I think I'm ok. I really do. "A blank ticket," that's what Rem says we all have. I believe that. It's just…

Something feels…off, and the sensation seems to be originating with Knives. I can't put my finger on what's wrong, but it's there. He acts the same, talks the same, spends time with Rem and me the same…but _he's_ not the same.

We still do everything the way we used to. We still play a lot with Rem, especially in the kitchen, and she teaches us all the time. Our lessons haven't stopped so we basically have what Rem calls "school" five days a week. We sneak out and look at the files on all the sleeping people in the pods, too. Still…

There is something wrong. I know there is, and I can't explain why I feel this way. I haven't told Rem either because I have no proof. But the little things…the little things…

It's usually when Knives and I are alone when I notice them. We don't talk very much anymore, and when we do he seems so…distant. It's if he's gone away somewhere, and I can't follow. And sometimes, when I wake up a little earlier than usual, Knives is gone. I wait for him to come back, and sure enough he does, right before the time I usually get up. More than that, whenever we visit the sleeping people, he smiles, but there's almost something eerie about it, and his eyes…they're so…blank. He withdraws, and it's like there's some sort of hedge between us. When I ask him what's wrong, he comes back and laughs the same laugh I've come to know ever since we were born, and he tells me he's fine. Just fine. And yet, I wonder…

The one thing that really sticks out to me, though, is the night Rem told us about our sister. About Tessla. Knives didn't seem to react much except when Rem hugged him. I saw his tears before he pushed her away from him, almost as if burned. Then, I followed him into the cold sleep chamber. He spoke to me, and something in his voice made a chill run down my spine.

"What's the matter, Vash?"

I didn't answer.

"Are you afraid?"

Silence.

"It's pointless to be afraid. It's…pointless."

* * *

Descending slowly, a hint of anticipation flickered across Knives' impassive features as he approached, scrutinizing the wreckage, analyzing it. The structure itself, while intact, appeared to be crumbling at the edges. A gaping hole in the side hung open, a wound from the less than graceful landing it must have made. Or perhaps humans had found this piece of technology and tried to ransack it. His blood simmered at the thought of it, but Knives soon dismissed the possibility. He had warded this place carefully, closed it off to all. Only Vash might have possibly been able to bypass the security, but his younger twin didn't even know of this object's existence. 

_I wonder, brother, what would your reaction be if you knew? Would you be angry with me for not telling you all those years ago? _His face darkened. _Before you left me?_

His agitation was slight, and Knives noted that, even mere days ago, such thoughts would have enraged him even though he would not have allowed others to see. A single corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a lopsided, humorless smile. Soon he would be free, free from the shackles of the past. All things that had gone before would be irrelevant to his present.

_But first…_

He reached the makeshift entrance, the small, wry grin disappearing in moments. He paused, his fingers brushing lightly against the sturdy, sagging metal. Melted somewhat during the entry into Gunsmoke's atmosphere, it seemed that a simple sandstorm would have been enough to cause it to sink completely, but Knives knew better.

Dispassionate, Knives' footsteps echoed unnaturally as he entered what remained of a medical facility, leaving behind the uneven ramp of sand that had spilled onto the metallic floors. Glancing about, Knives saw signs of invasion, not only by desert elements but by human hands as well. His eyes narrowing imperceptibly, he proceeded forward, disgusted by the evidence left by the raids, pieces of equipment missing, blasted parts along the walls, and even a few mundane items randomly strewn about.

Reaching the door at the end of the rather small hallway, Knives stopped, the ghost of a cruel smile flickering tugging at his lips upon seeing the coppery stains streaking the area behind him. Turning to face an almost indiscernible panel installed in the wall, he pressed a small, black button. Seconds later, a green light scanned his right eye once, twice, before an artificial voice spoke.

"Retina scan complete. Identity confirmed: Millions Knives. Security system deactivated."

Satisfied, Knives continued on into the next room, his distaste evident as he left the human refuse behind. Despite the fact that the filth proved how effective his measures had been, it was still filth through and through, something that, to Knives' mind, had no place here. On the other hand, soon this remnant of days long since past would no longer be needed. Thus, the problem in itself was practically null and void at this point.

As he entered the next room, Knives was pleased that (judging by the lack of human refuse) this one section of the wrecked SEEDS ship had remained untouched. Slowly, almost reverently, Knives walked towards the door on the far side, his thoughts distant as he passed by the aged, broken down computer consoles lining the walls, his "limb" rustling with anticipation. His boot crunched against something, and upon looking down, Knives saw that he had stepped on the shards of a broken vase, black sludge amidst the jagged pieces. Grinding them under his foot, Knives keyed in the access code to the door, an odd, aching sensation in his chest cavity as the door slid open.

Everything was the same as he remembered it. The equipment, the almost unnatural cleanliness somehow preserved despite the crash, and the overwhelming sense of tragedy veiling the room. And above all else, the reason why he had come in the first place. His palm pressed against the cold, icy glass, Knives gazed into the interior, his eyes locked on the contorted shell within.

_Tessla.

* * *

_

It's late. Very late. I shouldn't be awake right now. I should be asleep in the room with Rem and Vash. We were tired after a busy day in the kitchen so we lay down together, just for a little while. None of us meant to drift off, but we did. I'm awake now, though, and they aren't. I should probably go back. No. No, I can't. I won't.

_Drip._

So many different possibilities…so many different ways to be rid of them. My fingers can hardly keep up with my own, frenzied thoughts, keys clacking at an abnormally fast pace as the screen flashes. I catch a glimpse of the people…the sleepers…the ones I once thought I would like to meet. But no…I never shall. The differences between us are too great. And humans always fear what they don't understand. Fear leads to hatred. Hatred…leads to destruction. Their foolish wars that have spanned the ages are proof of their inability to change. Vermin. Parasites. _Murderers._

_Drip._

They won't accept us. I see that now. I was a fool to think they would, especially when I knew what their history was like. And she lied. She _lied_ to us. To _me_!

_Drip._

Won't think about that right now. I have to finish this. I have to be rid of them. Or they'll kill us. They'll kill us all.

_Drip._

Pain in my hand…my nail…peeling off? Doesn't matter. The blood running down my finger…the stains…I'll clean them later.

_Drip._

Blood on my face…nevermind. I lick my lips. Salty. Salty liquid on my cheek…why? No matter. Just a few more quick adjustments…done. The detachment program is primed to take effect when the ships go off course, and I installed the security system myself. She'll be safe until I come for her again.

_Drip._

The water faucet needs to be fixed. I'll tell Rem when I get back. It won't matter, though. There's no going back now. I'll get rid of them all. For them. For Vash. For _her._

Tessla.

The Big Fall

Estimated casualties: 20 million.

60 million missing.

802 ships destroyed.

74 emergency landings.

124 ships missing.

The cause is thought to be an aberration in the flight system, but at present there is no proof.

* * *

Knives stood there for a long time, saying nothing as he took in the delicate form suspended within preservative liquid in three separate test tubes. An arm to the left, her brain and eyeballs to the right, and then the rest of her mangled body, all floated sluggishly within their respective confinements. While once horrified beyond imagination by this appalling example of human depravity, Knives did not turn away, his expression shifting, bothered by thoughts and brief, almost nonexistent feelings too complex to fully define. Finally, he spoke. 

"It's been a long time…hasn't it, Tessla?" he said softly, his fingers tracing the faux bulb that held her. "Many years have passed since that day, the day you instructed me in the true nature of the human race."

He lifted his hand away slowly as feathered tendrils snaking forward and around the glass cylinders, their grip tightening.

"And now, I must ask for your assistance one last time."

Cracks spread along the smooth surfaces, liquid seeping out as the overpowering scent of body additives assaulted Knives' senses. Still he persisted, until at last, the test tubes shattered, fluid pooling across the floor. Reaching out, his "limb" gathered Tessla's remains to him, pressing her small, slimy corpse close to his body. Knives leaned forward a little, kissing her forehead lightly, his eyes distant as frenetic whiteness enfolded her in its embrace, free at last.

Heat radiated across the room in waves as light, white and blinding, overtook him. Wisps of steam escaped into the air, a low, persistent hiss growing steadily in volume around him. Hardly aware of that, Knives bowed his head as Tessla disappeared into the annals of history, a clawing at his chest that ripped…that tore…

As the brilliance faded, Knives stood alone amidst the molten remains of his sister's former resting place. He closed his eyes, a putrid, unraveling part of him falling away, never to return.

_Farewell…my brother.

* * *

_

-pushes review button towards the reader-


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